


Laid to Rest with his Ghosts

by Lysandra_Marshmallow



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysandra_Marshmallow/pseuds/Lysandra_Marshmallow
Summary: This is a Maze Runner short story of what life would have been like in the Safe Haven for Thomas.
Kudos: 1





	Laid to Rest with his Ghosts

Thomas looked around him at the lush emerald grasslands. The golden sun shining down on their backs with intense heat and warmth, just as a mother wanting to protect her children from the rough truth. The rough truth was that he could never be fully and truly happy here. Not after everything he'd seen and experienced. The faces of his best friends swam across his mind in an infinite river of his sorrows.

Thomas saw Alby, as he bravely jumped to his death, sacrificing himself for a failed cause. He heard Chuck, gasp and choke out his last words. He felt the warm, sticky blood slip over his fingers as he clutched the small carving of the young boy's mother. It was the same blood he felt now as he gingerly stroked the carving that was matted with the dry scabby red crust. He felt Teresa's hands shove him out of the way as the supporting beams in the ceiling crumpled and fell among the concrete slabs, crushing her bones and pinning her unmoving, broken body to the cold floor. And lastly, he felt the hard, metal trigger of a gun, slippery beneath his sweaty fingers. He saw the anger and hate recede from Newt's eyes and experienced it being replaced by agony, pleading, torture and fear. He remembered how the pressure felt, his hand being forced backward after he squeezed and heard the thwack of the bullet. They were the ghosts that would haunt him forever.

It was all too much for him to handle at that moment and the tears came flooding as he slid his back down the rough bark of a healthy tree trunk. The shadows dancing around the ground with rare slivers of light falling through the thick leaves above him. His shoulders shook like a small earthquake and he felt weak and drained. As if all he wanted to do was lay still. The time for being strong and vigilant had ended and he fell into mourning for his friends, the closest thing he was ever going to have to family.

And he knew. Oh, how he wished he didn't know. But he did. Thomas knew he could never truly be happy or content because all these deaths lead back to him. It was Thomas's theory that once someone sacrificed themselves the grievers would leave them be. His fault Alby was dead. It was Thomas who stood there when Gally faced him. His fault Chuck was dead. It was Thomas who didn't realise the ceiling was falling on his own head. His fault that Teresa was dead. It was Thomas who pulled the trigger. His fault that Newt was dead. He knew all this as he sat there and wept...and wept...and wept.

Who knew how long he'd been there for, hours? It was almost night. But when he was done, he dried his face and eyes. Blinked against the stinging, took a deep, shaky breath and stood. He felt the need to redeem himself, just as he did in the glade. And he wasn't going to do that by sitting and crying. Thomas got up, and he forced himself to do simple things. Like eat, sleep, work, help. He forced himself to live. And as he struggled through his life he didn't know who watched over him. His guardian angels. They hid in the shadows and the trees. Following him always. Thomas grew old. One night, he was feeling particularly weary, like his whole body was being dragged down. His old bones were rusted and frail. And on this night as he climbed into bed he saw them reveal themselves, his guardians. They stepped from the shadows and their faces shone with brilliant white light.

He took in the sight of the people he loved in front of him. Alby, still stern and wise, but his face was soft and he smiled. "Hey there, Greenie."

Chuck, laughter shone through his youthful eyes. "Hey, Thomas! Hope you've been keeping yourself out of trouble," the child winked mischievously.

Teresa, her hair glossy and her eyes bright blue and filled with pride and love. "You did well, Tom." She beamed.

Minho, his hair still spiky and his arms still strong with his arrogant grin. "Look at you skank, never seen you better." He said sarcastically. Thomas smirked, he had lost Minho a few years ago to old age and a few months later the jaws of death had taken Brenda with him as well.

But there she was, young, fiery and as sassy as she was many decades ago. Brenda was also standing before him. "Come on Tom, I hope you didn't forget about us that easily." She teased.

Then Thomas saw him, Newt. His hair still golden and his chocolate brown eyes still reassuring and playful. Thomas instantly forgot his old age and shed the years he'd earnt as he bounded up and flung himself to pull them all into a tight embrace. As Thomas made contact with his best friends he glimpsed his reflection in the mirror. The deep lines on his face had smoothed out. His grey hair was now fuller and a deep shade of brown. The muscle and meat he had accumulated on his bones reformed and he was back to his teenage self. In the corner of the mirror, he saw his body sleeping in bed, still old and fragile. But the body's chest was no longer rising and falling. This sleep wasn't possible to wake from.

"It's time you came with us now, Tommy. Your years are up, no more worrying and pain." Newt said softly. Teresa held out her hand to him and he took it as they disappeared into the heavens above. Thomas had found his peace at last. He had laid to rest with his ghosts.


End file.
